Page 2 of Caught By the Chief of Staff

Chapter 1

Oh fuck

New York, New York

Six months earlier…

“You have got to be shitting me.”

I never thought I would hear that voice again. A voice that had only ever spoken to me sweetly in the past is seething now, and I can’t even blame him. There’s too much history between us, too much water under the bridge. Even though he obviously hates me, my heart still pangs at the sight of his handsome face.He looks good.I hate myself for thinking that. I hate that I’m so drawn to him, that I can’t seem to stay away even though I know it’s better for both of us if I do so.

I picked my daughter Rachel up from school, and she bounced into the car with her normal high-energy motions. My sitter called me while I was sitting in the pickup line from hell to tell me that she was sick and couldn’t make it tonight. Having once been a seventeen-year-old girl, I was pretty sure she had a serious case of teen hormones and the only thing that could cure her was her boyfriend’s penis. I was young once. I could be cool; I could relate, so I told her that I hoped she felt better soon and planned to take Rachel with me to Grace’s house to get ready. Rachel is a great kid, the best really. She’s happy with books and a couple of games on her phone. I knew that I would be able to do what I needed to do for Grace with Rachel in the house. I had my doubts about what was really going on, and still do, but there was nothing I could do. It’s not like I have a family I can rely on. Hell, I don’t even have family outside of Rachel. I was an orphan before I married her father, and after that, I was a divorced single mother. It’s not exactly an ideal life, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t lonely, but Rachel is one hundred percent worth it.

And I’m lucky tonight’s client is Grace Sanders, a high-power attorney and my friend. I dress her for formal functions where there will be press or the upper crust of New York. Anything fancier than the normal. She has impeccable taste and really doesn’t need me, but she uses my hair and makeup skills as well. And I make Grace look good. She’s also really easygoing and loves my daughter, so she won’t mind Rachel has to tag along.

“What are we doing tonight, Mom?”

“I have to work.”

“Boooo,” she complains.

“But it’s Grace and you get to come with.”

“Yay!”

“Hey, Auntie Grace,” Rachel says when Grace opens the door. I’m not sure what I was expecting, maybe a butler or a live-in housekeeper answering the door now that she’s living with the most popular U.S. Senator. He was gracing the tabloids with his bachelor antics before Grace won his heart. He’s from an old money family, and I guess I just expected more.

“Hey, kid, what’s up with you?” she asks Rachel, tossing her hair and making her laugh.

“Sorry,” I say as I roll my big makeup tote in the house behind my daughter. “My sitter is sick. I think being sick means she’s getting laid.”

“Oh the good old days,” Grace replies, and I can’t help but laugh. She’s not wrong. Back when I was married, I got laid all the time and took it for granted. Now, it’s been so long that I’m not even sure all of my parts work anymore.

“Here,” a handsome man in a suit says to me before lifting my heavy cart up as if it weighs nothing. He’s handsome in a rough-around-the-edges way. I could totally be into that. Once upon a time and all. “Let me take that for you.”

“Thanks.”

“Wow. I think our stoic Gus might be smitten,” Grace says, and I barely hold in a sigh. I wish he made my heart go pitter-patter, but it’s been dead as long as my marriage. The only thing keeping me alive is Rachel. Before she was born, I was just going through the motions, doing anything I could to survive. Rachel and I are fighters, survivors; we’ll always do what we have to in order to get through.

“Oh hush, you.” I force a laugh and change the subject. “Now, show me what you’re wearing, so I can work my magic.”

“Right this way, boss.” I let out a whistle when I get a load of how the other half lives. A girl could get used to this, but then again, I’m not the kind of girl who gets a fairy tale.

She leads me into her own private dressing room, and I take in the sweet pink ballgown with flowing skirt and bodice of gold beads. It’s a great fucking dress.

“Holy hot Cinderella, Batman!” I whisper. “I fucking love it.”

I stare at the dress and try to take in every little nuance. I picture it on Grace and roll through my mental catalogue of looks to go with it. She’s one of my favorite clients, because she just lets me run with whatever I want to do, and she’s always happy with how it looks in the end. Finally, the perfect look pops into my head.

“Okay,” I say suddenly. “I’ve got it. Let’s go set you in rollers.”

She follows me back into the bathroom where I lay out all my supplies on the counter before rolling her hair up into large hot rollers. When I’m done with her, she’ll look like a mix between a silver-screen star and Cinderella.

“All right, you know the drill,” I order, and she rolls her eyes, making me laugh.

“You just like to see me in my undies,” she replies.

“Don’t you know it.” I laugh. “And don’t mess up my rollers either.”